


To Like A Leech

by feainn (Espanglish)



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And he’s having a dilemma about it, Humor, Johnny is a good boi, Light Angst, M/M, McCullum develops a crush, No Civilian Kills | Not Even Once, One-Sided Attraction, Or Is It?, Romance, Stupid leech doctor and his stupid pretty face, Vampire Hunters, Vampires, i guess?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-01-07 12:56:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Espanglish/pseuds/feainn
Summary: For the majority of his life, McCullum had always despised vampires. They were cruel, feral beasts that needed to be eradicated from the land. They held no place in this mortal realm.That is, until McCullum had the unfortunate (or fortunate) luck of meeting Jonathan Reid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, I’ve fallen into the Vampyr fandom and I can’t get out! Dearie me!
> 
> So I decided to take on my own spin of every McCullum/Reid meeting but with more gay involved. One-sided gay from our poor old Geoff, that is. With some extras in between because let’s be fair, there wasn’t enough McCullum in the game :3 so this will be from his point of view.
> 
> If there’s any inaccuracies lore wise or story wise then my apologies (please let me know) I’ve tried to stick to the material already given in game but my fic is a slight canon-divergence anyway so I’ve took some liberties here and there.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

His blood was boiling as he stormed passed the gates of the Pembroke Hospital, ignoring the looks of alarm thrown his way by the few nurses and doctors lingering around the tents set up out front. If McCullum was a poetic man, he’d even go as far to say a thundercloud lingered above his head; dark and thick with rain, threatening to spill and leave a trail of water in his wake. But he wasn’t a poetic man, just a furious one who was ready to rip a new one into the Pembroke’s eccentric administrator.

The foyer was surprisingly quiet save a female patient muttering something to herself while she stared at a noticeboard, completely oblivious to McCullum’s arrival. There was also a nurse standing to the side of the desk centred in the middle of the foyer, engrossed in writing notes on her clipboard. McCullum paid them no heed, rounding the desk and headed towards the stairs.

“Excuse me, sir, but you aren’t permitted to go upstairs.” A thick Birmingham accent called behind him. 

McCullum stopped in his tracks, one foot already on the first step leading up to the first floor of the hospital. He turned, seeing the nurse he passed only moments earlier looking at him with a steely gaze, pen poised against the papers on her clipboard. 

The hunter ground his teeth together, brows furrowed deeply. His tone was clipped, voice gruff as he replied, “I need to see Dr. Swansea... it’s _urgent_.”

“And do you have an appointment with Dr. Swansea?” She shot back, her own tone completely no-nonsense.

McCullum felt his eye twitch in irritation but he couldn’t direct his ire at the nurse. She was not the source of his anger. It was the idiotic, vampire fucker holed up in his office upstairs. After hearing of a report from one of his captains, of a rumour that the hospital had been attacked by a vampire, McCullum had found himself rushing through the streets of Whitechapel to reach the hospital. Because of course, _of course_ it could only happen at the Pembroke. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that a bloody leech had attacked patients at a hospital run by a brother from Saint Paul’s Stole. The Brotherhood may have been pacifists concerning the blood-sucking creatures but Swansea was renowned for being a vampire apologist, far too enthusiastic for his own good. It made McCullum’s skin crawl.

He breathed in deeply, tried to keep his voice from betraying just how angry he was, “No. But it’s important that I see him.”

The nurse squinted her eyes at him, clearly suspicious of him.

“I just need five minutes of his time... please.” 

_When did he ever say please?_

The nurse turned her head, giving him a sidelong glance then sighed, the fight leaving her. She eyed him up and down, then nodded once.

“Fine. But if you cause any trouble, you’ll be escorted off the premises.” 

“Thank you, nurse...”

“Hawkins.”

“Nurse Hawkins.” He nodded once, turning away and took the stairs two at a time, his anger returning as he strode towards Swansea’s office.

He didn’t knock, he left his manners with the nurse downstairs, and slammed the door open, his eyes glaring daggers at the _good doctor_ seated at his desk.

“Swansea.” McCullum growled.

Swansea had already been startled by the aggressive force used on his door and his eyes widened at seeing the hunter standing before him. His pen was poised against his papers, leaving a blotch of ink. McCullum took a guess that he was writing something or other on his beloved vampires. Or doodling himself being bitten by one of the sodding things with love hearts around them. Not that McCullum cared, but he wouldn’t be surprised either.

“Mr McCullum!” Swansea exclaimed. His eyes were still wide behind his spectacles and he finally put his pen down, “What right do you have storming into my off-“

“Don’t play games with me, doctor, I know what’s happened. One of my men told me you let a leech into your hospital. Killed one of your patients and attacked others. And yet here you sit like nothing of the sort has happened.” McCullum pointed a finger at the doctor, his face contorted into a sneer.

“Now, McCullum, you have it all wrong. We were unaware that the patient was a vampire. It was all very sudden-“

McCullum growled low in his throat, his teeth bared at how indifferent Swansea was, his tone too clinical and uncaring.

He snorted, voice full of disdain as he said, “And why do I find it hard to believe that? I wouldn’t put it past you to house a leech here. Among all these people, putting them in _danger_.”

Swansea sniffed as he turned in his chair, picking up the skull that was resting on his desk to study it nonchalantly. 

“Oh? And since when were you so concerned about my patients, Mr McCullum? You are nothing but a fanatical brute who only cares about exterminating anything in your path to hunt vampires without concern for anyone else.” Swansea replied, finally looking the hunter in the eye, his expression smug and lips upturned into a small, conceited smile. McCullum wanted nothing more than to punch that look off the doctor’s face.

The hunter was about to retort, something scathing and threatening. Something to have Swansea quake in his freshly polished Oxfords but the door clicked open causing both men to pause and turn towards their new arrival.

A finely dressed man with a long, well tailored coat stood in the doorway. His dark hair was combed back, not a single strand out of place, and a neatly maintained beard framed his long, regal face, accented his aquiline nose. He stared at McCullum, eyes inquisitive.

The hunter felt his breath leave him. Felt something warm settle low in his stomach and sparks shoot up his spine as impossibly pale eyes with a hint of blue bore into his own dark blue ones. _Impossibly pale eyes to go with a sickly, pale face_. It didn’t take a Priwen rookie to know that McCullum was currently in a staring contest with a fucking leech. A leech that had managed to steal his breath away when they first locked eyes with each other. A leech that McCullum could _scent_ even before he turned and saw that ghostly pallor and piercing eyes that was common among all of the bloody things. _A leech that had left him fucking speechless because it was so disgustingly beautiful, it made him feel ill._

It had only been mere moments that they had been looking at each other until McCullum managed to pull himself out of his reverie _\- he couldn’t even tell himself the damn bloodsucker had mesmerised him because he knew that little trick didn’t work on him -_ and he glared at the vampire.

“God protect us, you’ve got another leech in the hospital?” He sneered, turning his accusing glare towards Swansea.

Swansea remained unperturbed, his lip twitching at the hunter’s tone.

“Yes, _my_ hospital. My mission is to heal,” He replied curtly, then flicked an accusatory hand towards McCullum, “While you go about warring.”

McCullum turned away from the doctor, ignored the low heat still coiling in his stomach as he pointed towards the leech still stood in the doorway, “You’ve set the table for a snake and wonder why there’s venom in your food.”

Swansea looked at him, voice annoyed but tired as the hunter turned back to glare at him. 

“I’m growing tired of your song. You’re a woodsman, McCullum, not a doctor. Return to your hunt.”

The doctor had turned away to study his skull again, dismissing McCullum. The hunter frowned deeply, clearly he wasn’t going to get any more answers from the idiot now that the leech had turned up. Not that he was expecting much from Swansea to begin with. The Brotherhood weren’t very... forthcoming with information and with Swansea’s infatuation for the beasts he knew this trip would have been a wasted journey, even as he ran through the streets of Whitechapel to confront the doctor.

“Remember,” McCullum snarled, his eyes full of disdain directed at Swansea, until he turned to walk towards the leech still stood in the doorway, “I’ve a good nose for machinations. I can flare the scent at a mile. _You_ can’t hide from the Guard.”

McCullum stopped, him and the leech just inches apart and he held its gaze, dark eyes burning into the other’s. The beast was calm, collected, but its eyes were icy as it didn’t move from its spot. Didn’t cower or drop its gaze. Flashes of white, hot anger coursed through McCullum’s body; anger at Swansea for letting the enemy roam so freely in a place where people were at their most vulnerable. Anger at the leech for seeming so calm, so unperturbed by the hunter’s presence. Anger at himself as he felt lust settle low in his gut, coiling further south and spreading over his skin, leaving tendrils of warmth in their wake as he held the creature’s eyes. There was something about them that made the hunter want to know more but, at the same time, shoot himself in the foot with his crossbow for thinking such things.

He needed to get out of here but he didn’t move. 

The silence was broken by Swansea, his voice chiding like he was talking to a child.

“Leave him, Jonathan.”

_So the leech was called Jonathan..._

They held each other’s gazes for longer until Swansea, once again, cut in with an almost pleading tone.

“This is sacred ground. Neutral territory.”

That was enough to pull McCullum from his thoughts, to pull away from those far too enticing eyes and to wash away the heat his body felt. He turned to Swansea once again, the doctor had an uneasy smile on his face. 

“And I just had the carpet cleaned...” The doctor joked, his voice wobbling a little as he tried to ease the ongoing tension between the hunter and the vampire.

McCullum swivelled his head back round to the leech to find it moving aside to let the hunter pass, watching as McCullum _still_ held its gaze as he left Swansea’s office. 

With one, final hard look he left the doctor and his pet leech, stomping heavily down the staircase. 

McCullum ignored the quizzical look from the nurse he had spoken to before seeing Swansea. His brow was heavy in a deep-set frown and he was sure he looked murderous just from the expression on his face alone. The hunter’s boots were loud against the tiles of the foyer and he left the hospital in the same fashion as he entered. _Now with an added problem._

He made it to the bridge leading towards the gates of Whitechapel and stopped. His breath was coming out harsh, puffs of air visible as it clouded round his face in the cold night air. He rubbed an impatient hand over his mouth, over his stubble, then braced his hands against the brick wall of the bridge. 

The night was relatively quiet, save the occasional shriek of a skal and McCullum could feel a tiredness wash over him and it wasn’t even that late, just past midnight. He sighed as he pushed away from the wall to pull out a small, silver box. It was a gift from his former mentor, Carl Eldritch, years before he died. He swiped a thumb gently across the Celtic knot engraved into the silver then flicked it open to pull a cigarette out. After lighting, he pulled a long drag from it to then blow out a steady stream of white smoke through his nose, head tilted up towards the night sky and eyes closed.

In all his years, a leech had never made him stop in his tracks. Nor had he ever let himself walk away from one that still lived. They were beasts; feral and dangerous regardless if they were Skal or Ekon and every single one of the bloody fuckers had to be exterminated. As leader of the Guard of Priwen, it was his _duty_ to cleanse the land of this scourge, to keep the innocent citizens of Britain safe. Though, McCullum thought, he would’ve put those very people in danger if he had attacked the leech back at the hospital. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, whether he liked it or not. But what still bothered the hunter the most was the effect the leech had had on him.

McCullum was not a man who cared who he was attracted to. If there was a willing body than that was good enough for him. The leech being... _male_ was not the issue. The issue lay in how _instantly_ attracted McCullum was to the sodding beast. How he, instead of being concerned that Swansea was letting a bloodsucker work at the hospital, was thwarted by such a beautiful looking specimen it had stopped McCullum’s brain from functioning. How those far too pale eyes to be normal had him pinned from the moment he - _it_ \- stepped into the room. He knew the more powerful leeches had the power to mind read and he hoped as hell that Jonath- _... the leech_ \- could not break through the barrier of his carefully built walls to hear his thoughts. He’d rather blow his own brains out than let that thing know exactly what he’d been thinking...

“ **Fuck.** ” 

He tensed his jaw as he threw the end of his cigarette into the river below and tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. With one last glance back towards the hospital, McCullum trekked his way back to Whitechapel, hoping he’d come across a skal or two to vent his anger and frustration onto.

—

It had been four nights since McCullum had gone to the Pembroke to find answers on the leech attack. Four nights since he hadn’t received _any_ answers but instead had been bombarded by reports of increasing skal activity down near the Docks. Patrols had been increased in the area and McCullum found himself joining the fray, hoping to gather anything on the vampire that had attacked the hospital. He was going on nothing and he was beginning to feel his patience wear thin. But his patience from lack of information wasn’t the only thing to be wearing thin; he found himself becoming increasingly frustrated since meeting Swansea’s own personal bloodsucker.

McCullum couldn’t get the image of the leech’s face out of his mind. He had barely slept that day, after their meeting, his body betraying him and conjuring up images that had the hunter pushing himself up in bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering his body and an uncomfortable hardness pressing against the material of his sleeping trousers.

_Bollocks._

The hunter studied the report he held in front of him as cigarette smoke billowed around his face, the small stick hanging lazily between his lips. It was just another report from one of his captains, stating about the skal presence they had found in Southwark some nights ago. This bloody epidemic was going to be the end of him...

He dropped the paper on top of his desk and smoked the rest of his cigarette slowly. He was due to go out with his men soon but felt like he needed to take a moment. Not that the Guard had a moment _to take._ But he’d take them where he could get them.

After his cigarette had burnt down to the butt, McCullum pressed it into the ashtray lay on his desk and pulled on his jacket and armed himself with a shotgun and his sword. He adjusted himself, making sure the weapons where concealed well enough but he had easy access to. He tightened the scarf around his neck but stopped as his eyes caught something resting on the side of his desk.

_Dr. Jonathan Reid._

That was the name of the leech he had met that night. The one who had plagued his thoughts since. After he returned to headquarters, McCullum had one of his men find out who the leech was. It took a day but the sergeant had came back not empty handed. It wasn’t much to go on but having a name to relate to the beast was enough for the hunter. From now on he would keep an eye on him... _it._ McCullum had a feeling it wasn’t the last he would see of Reid, and the angry part of him was glad; it meant he could finally put a bullet through its heart. Or a sword through its neck. But the other part of him was _terrified and excited_ and McCullum didn’t want to look too closely as to why.

He covered the piece of paper over with the other reports and ground his teeth together. Tonight he was out to hunt. And he’d be damned if he was going to let Reid get in the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It has been a while. Apologies to anyone who’s been waiting on this fic. It’s not abandoned in the slightest but life and lack of motivation get in the way at the best of times.
> 
> Again, I’ve took some liberties with canon from the game and just doing what I feel fits the story.
> 
> Before beginning, I would just like to say that I’m not the biggest fan of copying/pasting word for word from scenes but this fic is from McCullum’s POV when meeting Jonathan each time. The word for word of dialogue is done for my own sake because I’m lazy and not that creative xD
> 
> Though I changed up Jon and Doris’ chat a little bit after the fight scene. Can you spot it? :D
> 
> I hope the wait was worth it! Enjoy!

The growing skal infestation across London was beginning to reach critical levels. More and more Priwen patrols were sent out each night, some during the day to find any stragglers in dark corners, where the beasts were at their weakest, their most vulnerable. Despite the Guard having more recruits than ever, they were feeling the strain. _McCullum_ was feeling the strain. Not that he’d admit it to anyone.  
  
His men were capable and efficient and the hunter knew he could put his trust in them, knew they’d fight with everything they had... but with more mouths to feed, more ammunition and weaponry needed, McCullum was beginning to feel the pressure. One good thing to come out of the epidemic was the chance to loot for anything they could find. It was unethical, of course, it even left a bad taste in the back of McCullum’s mouth but with rationing and the blockades in place as the war in Europe still raged on, McCullum would take what he could get.  
  
Not only had McCullum doubled Priwen’s efforts in controlling the skal epidemic he was still investigating what had happened back at the Pembroke. He hadn’t been there since that night, in Swansea’s office where he confronted the administrator but had been privy to meeting Swansea’s resident leech doctor.  
  
_Jonathan Reid._  
  
The leech had continued to plague McCullum’s thoughts. No matter how much the hunter threw himself into patrolling and planning, Reid was still there, in the back of his mind. That regal face. Those pale eyes. It made McCullum want to poke his own eyes out so if he ever came across Reid again, he wouldn’t have to look at him. Though despite the leech making his presence heavily known in McCullum’s mind there was still much to be done. Priwen scouts had tracked possible sources of the skal epidemic in the West End, locating the origins of the outbreak. Two families had been affected, the Guard following the trails to their homes but someone had already dealt with them if their mutated corpses heaped haphazardly across the floors were anything to go by. There were signs of a battle, in both houses, and McCullum had a hunch that he knew who could have dispatched the monstrosities. Though if he thought about it too hard he’d give himself a headache. 

Thankfully, the Guard hadn’t been left completely empty-handed; while McCullum and his boys searched the houses for any other evidence, they had found correspondence between the two parties and one Doris Fletcher. It wasn’t a coincidence and McCullum wasn’t going to let it slide. Fletcher had been involved with both of the infected families and it gave McCullum enough ammunition to investigate.

This was how McCullum and his men had come to surround Doris Fletcher’s theatre. Despite the evidence being sparse, it was clear Fletcher was the key factor in spreading the infection and McCullum wasn’t the kind of man to ignore a gut feeling when one made itself known.  
  
He had a group of three investigating the back of the building, a pair each stationed at the ends of the road while he, Caleb and Flint surrounded the front entrance. He nodded to Flint, the heavier-set man nodding back stiffly and he watched as Flint turned the knob, finding it unlocked. _Odd but not surprising_ . The theatre had been closed for some time, Fletcher having disappeared behind the scenes for a while as the epidemic ravished the streets of London but if the evidence McCullum and his men had found back at the two houses held true, Fletcher should still be around. Maybe they would find whoever else was after Fletcher. It made something boil in the pit of McCullum’s stomach, something primal but angry and the hunter didn’t want to look too closely into it.  
  
The three stood still for a moment, trying to gauge any noise coming from inside the theatre. Nothing could be heard, it was eerily silent. McCullum motioned to Flint to take the lead, the brawler nodding again and with his shotgun poised in front of him as he nudged the door open with his foot. Flint took point, followed closely by McCullum and Caleb at the rear, weapons at the ready. 

The foyer was dim, the lighting subtle but enough for the three hunters to assess their surroundings without much difficulty. McCullum had his left arm raised, the crossbow fully loaded and poised in front of him, his right hand resting on the revolver at his hip. He stepped carefully over the carpeted floor, his boots barely making any sound as he strayed to the left. He scanned the area, not seeing or hearing anything of note except there was a sickly, sour smell to the air.

“Mac.” 

McCullum turned his head towards Flint’s voice, the brawler was stood underneath the eastern archway that led to the main showroom. The hunter moved over towards him, seeing the other man kneeling near a pool of some green substance. Flint looked up at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. The smell was horrendous, burning the inside of McCullum’s nose as he stared down at it with a deep frown creasing his forehead. 

Flint pulled out a ratty handkerchief from his coat pocket and wrapped it around the knife strapped to the end of his shotgun loosely. The two watched as the brawler dipped the cloth covered knife into the acidic pool at his feet and grimaced as the cloth began to corrode quickly. The brawler shook the cloth loose and let it fall into the puddle, the rest of the material melting away.

“Well, there goes my snot rag…” Flint sighed, voice rough as he pushed himself up. McCullum snorted quietly as he felt Caleb pull up behind them.

“Boss, area’s clear though there’s more bodies upsta-” Caleb stopped, his own nose wrinkling, “Christ on a bloody bicycle, that shit stinks. Feels like me nostril hairs are burnin’ off!”

McCullum and Flint looked at each other with matching amused expressions and McCullum snorted again, patting Caleb on the back and readied his crossbow again.

“Aye, but we aren’t the only ones here. I need you boys to spread out but watch your arses-“ McCullum ordered his men but stopped as he heard a faint feminine laugh waft over from the direction of the double doors into the main theatre room. His frown was back, mouth set into a scowl. “Looks like we found our target, lads. You two take point at the doors there,” he nodded at the double doors in front of them, “I’ll take upstairs. I can get a vantage point from there. Don’t go guns blazing just yet, we don’t know what we’re up against here.”

The two nodded at him, reloaded their weapons and jogged lightly past him, readying themselves at the door. Satisfied, McCullum took the right staircase up, listening to the sounds coming from the theatre room. The silky, smooth tones of Doris Fletcher’s voice reached his ears, her words taunting. He recognised it was her after seeing one of her shows years ago; the Guard had a rare night off and wanted to see one of her plays, heard that there was going to be pretty showgirls dancing in it and had badgered him to go along with them. 

Yes. Fletcher was the key to the outbreak, there was no doubting that now.

McCullum stopped at the double doors on the first floor, ear pressed against the smooth mahogany as he listened. Fletcher was fighting someone, grunts from her opponent followed her laughs and twisted words. That feeling came back in full force, that gut feeling McCullum relied on so heavily as he listened. 

As quietly as he could, McCullum opened the door and slipped through the gap, coming onto the balcony overlooking the entire room. The sounds of fighting were much louder, the clashing of weapons echoing around the room. The hunter crouched slightly and trekked his way to the railing. He crouched low behind it, still listening as he checked his crossbow was readied although he knew it was - _a force of habit_ \- then peered over the balcony. In the middle of the room was Doris Fletcher, adorned in rich, green garments and holding a saber out in front of her. Except, it wasn’t the Doris Fletcher he remembered seeing all those years ago. Not even the beauty one would see on the posters scattered around London, advertising her plays. She was grotesque. Monstrous. Her left arm now a pulsing mass of red tissue, tendons spreading from her shoulder to connect to the left side of her face. Gone was the fair and beautiful Doris Fletcher of the West End, instead a bitter, twisted and malformed creature had taken her place.

The sight of it made bile burn the back of McCullum’s throat. Over his years with Priwen, the hunter had seen all sorts of monstrosities. Enough to make a grown man or woman empty the contents of their stomach, whether it was the monster themselves or the scene left behind. He’d seen it all… but that didn’t make seeing Fletcher so disgustingly different any easier.

But it wasn’t just Fletcher taking centre stage; amidst the flashes of green and clouds of acidic gas, was the resident leech doctor who hadn’t left McCullum’s thoughts since their first meeting.

That gut feeling, the one that first knotted itself tight inside of the hunter when he and his men had discovered the origins of the skal outbreak, the one that knew someone else was also doing their own research and knew _exactly_ who it was… McCullum felt it tighten even further then release in _relief._ Something he really didn’t want to look at too closely but seeing Reid, fighting against Fletcher, the very distant optimistic part of the hunter was glad it was Reid who was here and not someone else.

Rei- _the leech_ \- was elegant. Fast. Poofing away into black mist whenever Fletcher extended her enlarged arm or swung it around like a giant flail. Dodging the clouds of gas both from her and her fellow skals. He wielded a sword like it was an extension of him- McCullum was impressed. Far too impressed if he were being brutally honest with himself, and he felt heat coil low in his stomach as he watched Reid fight with everything he had. 

McCullum’s eyes never left Reid. He barely gave Fletcher any notice, ignoring her taunts towards her opponent. Instead he focused on the length of legs hidden beneath well-tailored trousers, the sharp angles of a pale, regal face, the flow and fall of an elegantly made trench coat. 

The lust that was steadily taking residence inside of the hunter battled with McCullum’s strategic side. He told himself over and over that he was only watching Reid to understand his enemy better; spot his weaknesses, his strengths. What the hunter needed to look out for when the time came where he and Reid would finally fight to the death. That’s all it was. _That’s all it was._

The fight continued on for what seemed like hours, could’ve been minutes- McCullum wasn’t exactly counting but he could see both Reid and Fletcher tiring, though the battle remained fierce. Fletcher still sweeping her arm across the room while Reid dodged and would then counteract with a swipe of his blade or leech powers of his own.

McCullum’s eyebrows rose as Reid knocked Fletcher back then raised his arms, summoning a black pool beneath the actress’ feet. She was frozen in place for mere seconds, a look of shock twisting her malformed face until she was suspended into the air. A loud crack resonated around the room as Fletcher’s body was contorted then slammed into the wooden flooring of the stage. 

The room was silent save Reid’s footsteps backing away slightly. Fletcher moaned as she peeled herself off the floor, panting as she kneeled, her form bowed in defeat.

“Wait… I beg you. Wait!” Fletcher cried, hand raised in surrender.

_Huh. So the leeches have decided it's time for a bloody conversation?_

McCullum could feel himself sneer as Reid knelt in front of Fletcher. His face, screwed up in concentration only moments ago, had softened.

“What?” He heard Reid ask, his voice slightly out of breath.

Fletcher’s face changed, a look of sorrow passed over her features - _a parody of emotions, the leeches were good at that._

“I… I don’t want to die.” She begged.

Reid’s voice was strong but there was no anger to it as he replied, “And I did not come to kill you, Miss Fletcher.”

“Will you spare me then? Save this _cadaverous_ carcass of mine?” Fletcher asked. 

She turned back to Reid, her voice turning sultry as she stroked the unmarred side of her face, “Does your heart beat a little faster now? You fancy me then, Doctor?”

McCullum felt a growl rumble low in his throat, surprising him. But hearing those words come from Fletcher… it made that primal side of him awaken again. Something possessive.

_What in the bloody fuck?_

Despite his conflicting emotions, he strained to hear what Reid would say in reply. The leech’s head was bowed for a moment.

“No, Miss Fletcher, my dead heart will beat for only one.”

_Who is this ‘one’ you speak of, leech?_

Again, another spike of possessiveness coursed through McCullum and if he wasn’t the leader of the Guard he would’ve shot himself in the eye with his crossbow for his sheer stupidity.

Fletcher interrupted his thoughts, growling as she stood quickly. McCullum rose to his own feet, staying in the dark of the balcony as he raised his crossbow, the sight trained on the actress.

“Is she pretty?” She spat, “is she sweet and tender?”

Reid raised his head, “To me, no,” then more quietly he added, “but he is not a woman.”

Something short-circuited in McCullum’s brain at the honest answer. To admit such a thing in this day and age was enough to get yourself killed… but Reid was already dead, wasn’t he.

Fletcher pivoted, releasing another angry wail.

“I hate him already.”

Reid stood, following Fletcher, “I know. And this is partly why you must be destroyed.”

_So Reid_ is _here to kill Fletcher…_

Fletcher turned her head slightly, her voice breathy, “But you just said…”

“That I did not come here to kill you? Yes, but I realise now the threat you embody must be stopped.” Reid replied, firm.

Fletcher didn’t reply right away. Instead she walked to the wall, taking the lantern and began sobbing. McCullum kept his crossbow trained on the actress, watching her every move.

She turned to Reid, her voice high and full of sorrow.

“Will I be remembered? Will _you?_ ”

Reid - the bloody leech bastard - stepped forward, his voice was gentle as he spoke. It was false. It had to be. Leeches do not know kindness or genuinity.

“You were Doris Fletcher, the greatest actress of her generation: no one can take that from you.”

There was a sad smile on Fletcher’s face.

“Thank you. And farewell.”

She swung her arm back then brought it forward, covering herself in oil and flame. The actress screamed in pain as she sank to the floor, causing the hunter to lower his crossbow as he watched Fletcher take her last performance; dramatic till the very end. 

Reid continued to stare at the burning body of Fletcher, saying his own farewell.

Now that the leech was on his own, now that McCullum could gather his bearings for a moment after witnessing that entire _spectacle_ he took control. He began clapping.

“Bravo! So dramatic! I love it!” He shouted, loud enough to gain Reid’s attention.

“McCullum!”

_Attention granted..._

“How strange. I seem to find you whenever I enquire about that skal infestation.” He kept his voice light, sarcastic, but the hunter couldn’t help keep the malice out of his voice. Reid may have given him… _thoughts…_ but he was still a leech. A filthy bloodsucker that needed to be dealt with.

“I mean you no harm.” Reid replied, again, his voice strong and sincere. No leech was ever sincere.

McCullum smirked, “I’m not here for you. But once I’ve put all the pieces of the puzzle together,” he said calmly. He could hear Caleb and Flint enter from below, “I’m sure we’ll have a little chat, you and me.”

The hunter didn’t bother looking down at his men, knowing Caleb and Flint were already scouting the area so he kept his eyes on Reid. He may have been far away from him but McCullum could see the icy blue gaze staring back at him as the leech backed away.

“Stay away from me, McCullum. You and all your war dogs.”

McCullum crossed his arms over his chest, still watching as Reid backed away from the hunters and towards the door to the backstage.

“That I can’t guarantee, Dr. Reid,” The hunter replied with the most absolute conviction, “But I’ll let you go… for now.”

With one last look, Reid headed through the door and slammed it shut behind him, leaving McCullum and his men to deal with the aftermath of the doctor’s fight with Fletcher.

The hunter must have been staring at the door for a while because he didn’t hear his men calling him, his vision filled with images of Reid fighting against Fletcher. Of the look of pain on his face as he admitted that there was someone he loved - a man no less - to the actress. His mind warring with him on what he felt about Reid.

“ _Mac!_ ” Flint barked, pulling McCullum out of his musings.

He masked his features, looking down to see Flint waiting patiently for him to answer as Caleb was looking over Fletcher’s charred remains.

“Lads, secure the area. I’ll head out and grab more men to scour the theatre, we don’t want any strays getting away.”

Caleb looked up from where he was crouched next Fletcher’s body, “what about Reid, boss?”

“We’re to leave him be, for now.”

“But he-”

“I _said_ we’re to leave him be.” McCullum growled, “there will be another time to go after Reid. And when that time comes he will _not_ be getting away.”

Caleb and Flint remained silent, the air thick with tension at McCullum’s outburst. Flint nodded, used to his leader’s temperament, and continued looking around the room. Caleb fidgeted in place and McCullum wanted to smack himself upside the head. The gunner was a good kid and if it were any other leech McCullum would have ordered his men to go after them. It was no wonder Caleb was confused by McCullum’s ‘No Chase after Reid’ policy.

The hunter sighed, “Check backstage, dispatch of any leftover leeches and sweep the area for any information left behind by Fletcher. I’ll grab reinforcements. We’ll be setting up shop here for a while.”

He turned to leave through the double doors but stopped to call over his shoulder.

“And Caleb? Make sure she’s dead.”

“Yes, sir.” 

—

Whitechapel was still crawling with leeches. The origins of the skal epidemic may have been dealt with but that didn’t mean the Guard could breathe easy. Instead, McCullum had increased patrols; it was a stretch on resources and men but the hunter felt he didn’t have much of a choice on the matter. Not only skals and beasts were roaming the streets, ekons were now taking advantage of the dire situation. More people to prey on, more game to hunt. It was just fun and games to them. And it was more challenging for Priwen but they would persevere. They had to.

McCullum was patrolling on his own tonight. He didn’t mind it. It was something he tended to do on occasion. As much as he loved his men he sometimes needed a breather.

The night was cool and quiet, eerily quiet, and it made the hair on the back of McCullum’s neck stand on end. Whitechapel _was_ still crawling with leeches but not this night. That gut feeling that the hunter was becoming so familiar with was back. He just _knew_ why Whitechapel was so quiet tonight. Someone had been cleaning up.

He stopped to light a cigarette while he was walking down one of the many alleyways, one that would lead him to the district proper. McCullum would usually try to avoid being in places where civilians were, knowing that leeches tend to lurk in dark corners but even with the epidemic and the cold nights, there were people who still stayed out late. These people were at risk and while McCullum rather avoid being around other people, for a number of reasons, he needed to make sure the population was safe. He couldn’t live with himself if he were the cause of putting people’s lives at risk by not being thorough.

He stayed down the alley while he smoked, leaning against the wall as he listened; a baby’s cry a few streets away, the bark of a dog, the wail of a skal that sounded so close but so far away. He could hear some of the civilians of Whitechapel engaging in conversation, two men arguing, a throaty laugh from the local prostitute and a young man talking to someone with a rich, velvety voice.

_A rich, velvety voice…_

McCullum threw the butt of his cigarette away and kept his back to the wall, raising his arm with his crossbow close to him. He poked his head around the corner and made a mental checklist; two arguing men. One local prostitute. And a young man stood talking to Reid just outside of what McCullum assumed was the boy’s home. 

Of course it was Reid. _Sodding leech… poking his nose where he shouldn’t._

But Reid looked calm. Content. There was a soft smile on his face as he spoke to the young man. 

McCullum could pick up a few words over the bickering of the other men, Reid was checking to see if the boy was alright.

_“It’s good… outside. You’re… well, Harry.”_

Ah. So the leech was doing his rounds, being the good doctor that he was. No doubt he was just cosying up to the locals, waiting for his moment to strike. Vampires of Reid’s calibre liked to play with their food. Ekons may be just as bloodthirsty as skals but they enjoyed toying with their victims, that’s what made them so incredibly dangerous. 

But Reid… Reid was different, wasn’t he? Reports from Priwen had suggested spotting Reid but there was never any evidence that he had attacked anyone. A few of the reports even stated that the doctor had waded into fights with skals along with McCullum’s men, then would flee before the Guard turned on him.

Nothing about Reid made sense. It tore at McCullum from the inside. Made all these… _feelings…_ clash against each other like waves against a cliff face on a stormy day. Reid was the enemy. He was everything McCullum hated, despised with every fibre of his being and yet Reid was _nothing_ like them. Either the doctor was very good at playing the game or he was, in fact, sincere in trying to keep his humanity. Slim chance but McCullum reluctantly believed it was a possibility. A possibility that left a sour taste at the back of his throat and gave him a headache every time he thought about it.

The hunter kept his eyes on Reid, crossbow at the ready as he watched the doctor continue his conversation with the young man. 

Reid reached out to pat the boy’s shoulder, smile still soft.

_“See… Harry. Take care.”_

Then he turned and walked further into Whitechapel, towards the church. McCullum could see him greet the prostitute pleasantly as he walked. 

Eventually, he was out of sight. And that was when McCullum lowered his crossbow and turned back down the alley, leaving in the opposite direction.

He’d leave Reid alone once more. Just once more. Next time though, McCullum would get him. He _had_ to.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes please let me know.
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always. Validate meee!
> 
> Not sure when the next chapter will be up but hopefully it won’t take as long as this one xD but it will be about Mac and Jon’s big fight. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Geoff got a case of the gaaaaay
> 
> Any spelling or grammar mistakes, pls let me know!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciate too :D next chapter will hopefully be out soon!


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